The Blue Scarf
by Sherlocks Blue Scarf
Summary: Post Reichenbach.   John sees a dark haired man walking in the cemetery. Could it be who he thinks it is? This might actually become slash, though it will not be full on slash.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first attempt at a fan fiction so any advice, or reviews would be greatly accepted. Thanks!**

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><p>It was a week after he jumped. One whole week or maybe even more, he couldn't tell. Sherlock Holmes felt so guilty, and when he saw John at his grave he had to stop himself from running towards him.<p>

"Why did you get yourself in to this mess Sherlock?" he whispered to himself. He never thought he would get so attached to John, in fact he actually never thought he would get attached to anyone. Sentimentality wasn't something that Sherlock was big on.

An arm linked through his, it was Molly. Kind, beautiful Molly Hooper.

"Sherlock, he's really depressed." she said.

"Yes I know, but he has to think I am dead. You need to look after him for me, look after him, but keep distant if you can. I know he has Mrs Hudson and Lestrade and I hope that Mycroft is trying to help." he answered.

"I'll try." Molly replied, "You know, I will do anything for you." and with that they left the shade of the trees and exited the cemetery by the back entrance, a tear running down Sherlock's face.

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><p>John Watson knocked on the door of his flat in 221B Baker Street expecting his flat mate, Sherlock to answer it. He stood there for at least ten minutes before he remembered that Sherlock would never answer the door to him again. He dug his hands into his pockets to find his key, and pushed it in to the lock. He pushed the door open slowly expecting-and praying-to see Sherlock standing at the window, violin in one hand phone in the other, but there was no one there. A tear slowly fell down his cheek and he reached for his phone. <em>Sherlock how could you do this to me <em>he typed _your my best friend and you've left me.-JW. _He never expected anyone to answer but a phone was never found on the scene so he had to hope.

John walked towards the couch, picked up Sherlock's second favourite dressing gown and hugged it. He felt the material get damp quite quickly.

He heard the door open and a voice saying "John how are you coping? I brought you up a nice cup of tea." it was Mrs Hudson, his-and Sherlock's land lady.

All he managed to say was a feeble "Thank you."

"Molly phoned earlier. She was asking for you, I asked her round for tea later. Is that okay?" she asked.

"Yes I have been meaning to call her." he replied.

Mrs Hudson left the room and went downstairs. John went to Sherlock's room, he sat down on the bed and looked around, for anything, any clue, any piece of evidence that this was all just a bad nightmare or that Sherlock was still alive, and just in hiding. He lay down and realised that there was a blue scarf lying on the bed, it was Sherlock's. John was confused, he ran downstairs with it to ask Mrs Hudson if she knew anything about it.

"I found this" he said.

"What is it?" she asked, "Oh that, yes I found it pushed through the letter box just after you left for your walk this morning. It was Sherlock's wasn't it, I assume that the nice police man Lestrade must have left it for you."

"Okay, when was Molly coming round?" he asked.

"Around about three o'clock." she said.

"Okay."

John walked back upstairs, slowly. He took out his phone and found Lestrade's number in his contacts. _Hi it's John here, I was wondering, did you come round earlier today?-JW. _He heard the ping of his phone go off, and remembered he had texted Sherlock's phone not too long ago. He opened up the message and read it _No sorry John, why?-GL, _he felt disappointed that it wasn't from Sherlock but he didn't expect it. He was really confused though when he read the text. _What about __Donovan, or Anderson?-JW_. He knew that wasn't likely as he had expressed his hate towards the both of them just after the funeral and hadn't heard from either of them since. Another ping went off _Do you really think either of them would be visiting you? But why anyway?-GL. _Again John was confused._ I found Sherlock's blue scarf lying on his bed when I came in. Mrs Hudson said that someone had put it through the letter box, she thought it might have been you.-JW. _He was starting to get tired, but Molly would be round in a bit so he shrugged it off and went back to his phone. _Well it wasn't any of us John, I am sorry. How are you doing?-GL. _He read the text, how did Lestrade think he was bloody doing, his best friend had just committed suicide because of him and his bloody team, he chose to just ignore the text.

He heard a knock on the door, and a quiet voice saying "John are you there?" it was Molly, he hadn't seen her since the day Sherlock jumped. He rushed to meet her, and gave her a massive hug, nearly breaking down in to tears. "John, I know that you are probably sick of people asking you this but are you okay?". He never answered, he just sniffed. Molly guided him towards the couch and placed him down, "What have you got there?" she asked.

"It's his scarf." he answered. "It's Sherlock's scarf."

"How did you get it?"

"I don't know it was on his bed when I got back in."

Mrs Hudson walked in with a tray, she placed it down on the table and filled up the three mugs. "Molly how are you?"

" Mrs Hudson I am okay. What about you?"

"I'm still a bit upset."

The conversation went on like this for a while, then Mrs Hudson left to go to bed. "Molly do you want to stay tonight? You can have my room, I'll sleep on the couch."

"That would be nice John, I thought it would be best so I brought over extra clothes. I don't mind sleeping on the couch though."

John and Molly talked well in to the night, a bottle of vodka between them, slowly emptying as the night went by. They were both asleep on the couch together by three in the morning.

John wolk up when he felt Molly tap him on the shoulder, it was nearly ten o'clock. His head was thumping, he looked down and saw an empty bottle on the ground. Him and Molly went downstairs to get some breakfast. By midday Molly had planned their activities for the next week. They were to go and visit the cemetery on Friday together, but that was all he took in, he was too hung over.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Sherlock was waiting for Molly at St Barts Hospital when he heard his phone beep, it was a text from John _Sherlock how could you do this to me_ _your my best friend and you've left me.-JW. _He felt terrible and he wanted to reply so much, but he knew that he couldn't, he turned off his phone. Molly came in to the lab and said "I thought you were going to see Mycroft today?" she said.

"I don't know what to say to him." He answered.

"You will. I'm going over to John's later, do you want me to tell him anything?" she asked.

"Yes, tell him that I'm not dead and I am hiding out at yours." he said. He felt the sting of tears in his eyes.

"Oh Sherlock, you know I can't do that, you need to tell him when you are ready, and when it is safe." she replied.

"I put my scarf through the letter box earlier. I don't want him to forget me."

"God, that's the last thing that is going to happen, you are his best friend, he won't forget you in a hurry." she said. "Do you want me to take anything over?"

"No just tell him that I am sorry"

"How am I going to do that?" she asked.

"Well you helped me with all of this, tell him I told you to say I'm sorry." he answered.

"Okay I'll try."

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><p>John pulled on his jacket and rapped Sherlock's scarf around his neck-he had taken to wearing it, because it was it was the only thing of Sherlock's that he could wear and not look stupid, and because he had no scarf of his own. He walked outside to meet Molly, it was Friday. They were going to the cemetery. Molly was holding a bunch of flowers, she gave him a kiss on the cheek and he felt tears falling on to his face, she was crying. "No Molly please don't cry, you'll get me going again." he said, a hint of humour in his voice. He pulled out a tissue and held it out. Molly took the tissue and blew her nose.<p>

They walked off to the cemetery together. It took about an hour, but John didn't want to take a taxi neither did Molly. John was happy that he had Molly, he knew she would never annoy him with constant talking. They walked past a club, 'Stayin' Alive' was blaring from through the door, he clenched his fist and Molly asked "What's wrong?"

"It's that song, it reminds me of him, and I get so annoyed."

"Oh, Jim" she said "he's gone so we have nothing to worry about."

"I know, but every time I hear it I just want to kill him. Why do people actually believe that he was just an actor? He's a bloody criminal mastermind!" he said, tension in his voice.

"He was a smart man John, he probably had a way of getting to them." she answered.

As they went round the corner they found the entrance to the cemetery. Molly stopped for a second. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing." she said, a bit to quickly.

There was a man walking up the path in the direction of where Sherlock's headstone was, he had a cigarette in one hand and was texting someone with the other. He was tall and thin, he reminded John of Sherlock, he had that curly mess of black hair too, but he was wearing a hooded jumper and had head phones on, Sherlock never listened to music, the only time John had witnessed him listening to music was when he was playing his violin-it was still sitting next to Sherlock's favourite armchair and he always wore that long black jacket, but John assumed that Mycroft had taken it.

John and Molly walked up to the headstone, the man had disappeared, but John really didn't care. Molly put the flowers down and went back to stand with John. The tall man that had disappeared was now standing in the shade of the trees watching them, John was confused, and thought that he may have been one of Moriarty's men, but what had he done, John left it, but he was still cautious. "Sherlock, you were and still are great man." Molly said, she was crying. John tried to comfort her, but he wasn't very good at comforting people it seemed.

"I love you Sherlock, and I miss you so much." he whispered.

"John, I need to go now, St Bart's needs me back soon, I'm sorry will you be alright?" Molly asked

"I think so." he answered.

She looked in to the trees at the man and he turned around and walked away, he looked so much like Sherlock, but he was dead, so how could John be seeing this he asked himself. He gave Molly a quick hug then asked, "Don't you think that man that was in the trees just a second ago looks like Sherlock?".

Molly looked at him then said "No I don't think so." her voice was wavering like she knew something that John didn't but he pushed it out of his mind, he was bound to think this at some point.

He waved Molly a goodbye and stayed at the cemetery a while longer, pondering over the events of the day and his sighting of that man who looked so much like Sherlock it was ridiculous. He was about to leave when he noticed something small and white next to the head stone. He picked it up and opened it. It was typed and said _Believe in me John - SH_. Coincidence he thought. John was a really popular name and Sherlock can't have been the only person in London with those initials, but he kept it anyway. As John walked back to 221B Baker Street he kept taking the little note out of his pocket. He had come up with many theories about who could have put it there, the most likely was that one of Moriarty's men put it there for a joke-a pretty cruel one he thought to himself. He took out his keys and unlocked the door, walked upstairs and turned the TV on, there was nothing but terrible day time programmes on. "I need to get back to work." he told himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Again, any reviews would be greatly appreciated, I have noticed that no one has reviewed the last two chapters, I don't know whether to take that as a good thing, or a bad one.**

Chapter 3

Molly walked quickly up to Sherlock, and shouted "He saw you, how bloody stupid can you be to let him see you!" she was really angry.

"I'm sorry Molly." he answered "Now can I take these bloody things off?" he said indicating to the black jumper and headphones.

"Fine, but you have to keep away from him, you'll put him in danger." she said, Sherlock handed her the jumper and headphones and she put them in her bag. He walked off quickly, he was surprised that Molly was so angry with him, she had to run to keep up with him, "Slow down." she called after him.

"Fine, but hurry up, I need to talk to Mycroft." he explained.

"Why?"

"I need another case, and quickly, or I am going back to Baker Street."

"Sherlock Holmes, you bloody well aren't going back there until you are sure there is no danger to Mrs Hudson, Lestrade, or John."

"Fine, but I want a murder to solve, or a disappearance now." he demanded.

"Does he know that your alive?"

"Not at this precise moment, but he will soon." he answered.

Mycroft was sitting in the hall of the government building that he worked at. He was reading the same news paper for the tenth time since he bought it, a week ago. The headline read "SUICIDE OF FAKE GENIUS". That fake genius happened to be Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft's brother, but he wasn't a fake, or so was thought by his nearest and dearest. He closed the paper and left the safety of the government building. Like usual he saw a bus drive past, and masses of commuters, but one thing was different today, rather than the black car that usually picked him up, there was a taxi waiting in its place, the door opened and a tall dark haired man was beckoning him. It was Sherlock, the "Fake Genius" who was dead. Mycroft had to blink to make sure he wasn't seeing anything, he opened his eyes, and as before there was a taxi with a "Fake Genius" in it. He walked forward and stepped in to the taxi, he closed the door and it drove off. "Ah dear brother, I was wondering when you were going to make a comeback, but this is sooner than I thought."

"I need help." Sherlock said.

"From me?" Mycroft asked, a quizzical look on his face. "What help could you want from me?"

"I need help searching for Moriarty's men." he answered, thinking that it was obvious that he would need help with that. "I want to go back to Baker Street, back to John, but I can't unless I deal with Moriarty's people." The taxi stopped just outside a small café in the centre of London.

"And how am I supposed to help with that?"

"Well brother, you are practically the British Government rolled in to one, so I trust you will be able to access some amount of records on Moriarty." he answered, getting out the cab "And anyway, you are the one who gave him the information he needed to ruin me, and make me 'kill' myself."

"Oh Sherlock, you don't understand why I did that. I needed to, it was of national importance." Mycroft answered.

"Oh I'm sure it was, but the least you could do is to tell me something. If not for my sake then at least for John." he said.

"I could give you the information from the interview I he gave me, but I am afraid that is all."

"I would prefer a recorded copy, or better still a copy on DVD, I need to see that bastards face when he tells you everything." he said, the anger in his voice obvious. "I need a passport too. Not in my name obviously, and a drivers licence." he said, not thinking he would get either.

"I am not bloody giving you a drivers licence, you can't drive, remember what happened when you were nineteen and I was trying to teach you. Mothers car was written off, it wasn't even that one you were driving!" he exclaimed.

"Okay, well it was it was worth a try." he muttered. "But I will be needing a passport."

"What use will a passport be to you?" Mycroft questioned.

"Are you really so naïve to think that Moriarty only had people in Britain. Oh I imagine he had people all over the place. You interviewed him, you should know." Sherlock remarked.

"Again why will you be needing a passport?"

"Well I plan to get rid of this society of criminals, so I can go back home, and John won't be at risk of getting killed if he is seen even walking past me without noticing." Sherlock shouted, his arms flailing about.

Sherlock walked up the stairs to Molly's flat, with a satisfied look on his face. He had just been dropped of by his brothers driver, after he insisted that he would get a taxi back to Molly's, he was unsuccessful, but he had successfully got a passport out of his brother, and a small amount of money to help him out in the short term.

"So Sherlock, did you have a nice time with Mycroft?" asked Molly.

"Yes I did, it was very...successful."

He hadn't told Molly about his plans to bring down Moriarty's society, and he hadn't planned to. It would be dangerous and he wanted to do it alone. "That's good." she said

"Are you going out?" he asked. She was wearing a dress.

"Um..Yes I was planning to, do you want me to stay?" she asked.

"Is it a date?" he asked, a bit too quickly. The dress wasn't one he had see in his short time staying with Molly, she had gone out a few times with friends, but the dresses then were more casual, this one was fancier. It was dark purple and flowed at her knees. He wasn't falling in love with Molly, he was just being cautious, he didn't want her going out with another psychopath.

"Yes, is that okay?" she asked, a hint of hope in her voice, like she was hoping he would say no.

"I thought we had decided that to stop people from being in danger, you would refrain from having a relationship." he said, looking down at his newspaper, there had been two murders and he imagined that Lestrade would be having a hell of a time solving it without Sherlock's help.

Molly was shocked, "What, am I not allowed to have a life now, just because I went out on three times with Jim. I told you he wasn't my boyfriend, and I ended it." she seemed upset.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, but Moriarty used you to get to me."

"Oh, back to you. Well I am going out, there's beans in the fridge, have them for dinner." she opened the front door, said a quick goodbye and slammed it over.

Sherlock went back to reading his news paper, wondering what Molly was so annoyed about, he was just trying to be safe. He didn't want another psychopath preventing him from getting back to his John. His John? What was he thinking, John wasn't his, they were just really good friends. Well more like inseparable friends.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

John was sitting in his flat reading through the jobs section of his newspaper when he saw an article about a double murder. He was waiting for Sherlock to come out with a statement like 'it was the victims lover', or a 'jealous colleague'. He never heard it. It was two weeks after the fall, and it was the longest of his life. As he got up to make tea the door opened, it was Mrs Hudson, and someone was standing behind her. "John I need your help." it was Lestrade.

"Greg, if it is about this double murder I won't be much use to you, my powers of deduction are inferior to that of Sherlock's." he answered, he knew he should be able to help with the cause of death, but he wasn't confident, because Sherlock wasn't there to give him any praise, or to correct him if his assumptions were wrong.

"No don't worry it isn't about that, I need your help with something that is a little bit easier." he explained.

John thought for a moment, then decided to help, he hadn't seen Greg for a fortnight. "Okay, what is it?" he asked.

"I need you to come to the pub with me tonight." he said.

"What?" he laughed, "Is that all?"

"Yes John, that is all. I will meet you outside Scotland Yard at 8pm, when my shift ends." he said, "And you are coming, if you phone and say your feeling ill, I will be over with a couple of six packs."

"Okay, I'll be there." John said.

Lestrade left and John looked up at the clock, it was 10:30am, and he had woken up at 9:00am. "Huh, I thought it would be at least 11:30 by now," he said "Mrs Hudson, do you need anything from the shops?" he asked.

"Oh yes dear, I'll write you a list." Mrs Hudson took some paper and began writing. "Are you going to be going back to work soon? I know you need time to grieve but I think it would be good if you were busying yourself at the surgery."

"I hadn't thought of that." he answered, in fact, he didn't think he wanted to go back to work, but he had thought very briefly about rejoining the army-John was an army doctor, and had first met Sherlock when he was shipped home from Afghanistan. Initially he missed the war, but since meeting Sherlock, rejoining became less of an attractive option for him, but he was now thinking about it seriously, he needed the money and Mrs Hudson needed a paying tenant.

"I had considered rejoining the army, I need the money, but don't tell anyone, I'm not sure yet."

"Okay dear, but you don't need to pay rent." she said.

"Mrs Hudson, I can't live in your flat when I am not paying." he said.

"Well then I will just reduce it, and I will notice if you put to much in the envelope." she laughed.

John was walking down the road towards Scotland Yard, to meet Greg. As he entered the building for the first time since Sherlock died, he saw Sally Donovan and Anderson. They were talking about something over coffee, and as he walked nearer them he heard Sherlock's name brought up in the conversation "Anderson, I was not being reckless, how were we supposed to know he never done anything. He knew everything about the kidnapping of those two kids. Our people would have never found out any of what Sherlock had."

"Our people should be able to do that without his help. He was so much more efficient, and if Greg hadn't become acquainted to him, half of the cases that he helped with would never have been solved, we need him Sally." Anderson said.

"No we don't need him, he was a liability-" she cut off suddenly as she saw John nearing them. "John I didn't mean-"

He cut her off, "Of course you did Donovan, don't even pretend you didn't." he retorted. "So made any arrests on that double murder yet?" he asked, fully expecting a no.

"Sadly John, no we haven't. However much of a psychopath that man was, we need him." it was Anderson.

John was slightly taken aback, Anderson and Sherlock were not what you would call even acquaintances, in fact Sherlock regularly showed his distaste towards him, remembering that fake drugs bust when Sherlock told Anderson not to talk because he would 'lower the IQ of the entire street.' That was something he missed about Sherlock, the insulting people without noticing, or even caring, and the random deductions about whether Sally had been scrubbing Anderson's floors again. "Yes Anderson, I know, he would have given you practically the whole life story of the murderer from one look." Sally looked uncomfortable, and Lestrade was walking towards them. "Sally, Anderson." he said with a nod, and walked out of the foyer with Lestrade.

"Hello John."

"Hi." he replied.

"So what were they saying?" asked Greg

"Who? Oh Sally and Anderson. Well Sally doesn't regret anything, but I think that Anderson does."he answered, then added "He was mentioning that you hadn't found any leads on that double murder yet."

"Yeah, it is a tricky case, we really need a consulting detective at the moment." he said.

John felt tears sting in his eyes, and he tried to blink them away, but Greg noticed "John, don't worry, it will get easier, and I plan to help you tonight, were going to get absolutely trashed." he laughed, "And one of us will crash at the others for the night probably."

That made him feel a little better, "Yes lets drown our sorrows in beer and whiskey."

John and Greg found busy pub that had live music, and chose to stay there for a while.

"My round first, what do you want?" said Greg.

"I'll have a pint." he said. The live band were really good and by the time Greg got back him and every other person in the pub was singing along to their version of _ Green Day-Basket Case. _When John finished his pint very quickly, and jumped up, asking Greg if he wanted another one.

"John, I have hardly drunk any of mine yet, slow down, we have only just started." he laughed.

John sat down with a sigh, "Okay, but hurry up, I want another one." Greg finished his beer quickly, to stop John from moaning about it.

"Okay, so another pint?" he asked.

"Nah, it your paying for this round I will have a double whiskey." he said with a smile.

"Fine." John said with a huff, and he walked up to the bar to order. When he was waiting, he heard someone cough, loudly behind him. He turned around, and was met by a man holding an umbrella. "Mycroft. What are you doing here, and how did you find me?" he asked. "Wait, I really don't want to know. Do you want a drink, Lestrade is sitting over there." he indicated towards Greg, who was looking over at them in confusion.

"No I have to be quick." he said. "I hear that you may be rejoining the army. When?"

"What, I haven't told anyone except Mrs Hudson. How did you find that out." he said, walking over to the table with two glasses of whiskey, Mycroft following behind.

"Mycroft, what are you doing here?" asked Lestrade.

"I was just asking John a question, which he hasn't answered yet."

"I am not answering that, until you tell me how you found out, please don't tell me you have cameras, or microphones in my flat." he said "Mrs Hudson won't be happy when she hears about this."

"As you well know I have my sources." he said. "So if your not going to answer my question I shall see you soon." He turned round and exited the pub, twirling his umbrella as he went.

"What was that about?"

"Well I have been considering rejoining the army." he explained. "How Mycroft came to know that I don't know, I told Mrs Hudson not to tell anyone. Well it's your round now, a pint please." said John, quickly trying to avoid the conversation.

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><p><strong>I was considering letting John meet Mary at this point, but I'm not sure what she should be like. If anyone has any suggestions I would like to hear them. Thanks.<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for not posting quicker, I had an essay to write for school, still not finished it. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. Reviews would be nice if anyone can be bothered. Thanks**

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><p>Chapter 5<p>

Sherlock was sitting in Molly's flat like usual reading the news paper, which was all he really did now, when he was waiting for information about locations of Moriarty's key people, when his phone pinged. He reached over to read it _John is rejoining the army.-MH. _Sherlock dialled Mycroft's number_. _He didn't wait for Mycroft to say hello. As he heard the phone being picked up he shouted "What? You have to stop him!"

"Sherlock, hello."

"Yes yes whatever, but you need to stop him." Sherlock said impatiently.

"You know I can't stop him, but I can pull a few strings to keep him here in Britain, training army doctors. Though he will need to go out to Afghanistan for a short time I imagine."

"Fine do that, I just don't want him to be in danger."

"Brother, you are putting yourself in danger by going after Moriarty's men."

"Not in severe danger. The worst I can come back with will be a few broken limbs." he said as if it was an everyday injury. "I need to get rid of them, I thought you would understand, seeing as you are trying to get rid of them too." he said, knowing that his brother would concede at that point.

"Fine, go ahead." he said and hung the phone up.

John woke up, with a thumping head ache. He sat trying to remember the nightmare that regularly haunted him in his sleep.

"_Sherlock, don't jump, I need you, we all need you." he shouted, tears streaming down his face._

"_John, you don't need me, I lied. I'm not the genius detective that I said I was." he explained, but it wasn't going to convince John._

"_No Sherlock, you knew all about Harry, you knew that my limp was psychosomatic, you knew I was an army doctor."_

"_I researched you, I wanted to impress you. I saw your blog." _

"_I don't have anything about Harry on my blog, so how could you have figured out that she was an alcoholic? And how can anybody diagnose a fucking psychosomatic limp, after only knowing the person for twenty minutes?" John asked, more tears streaming down his cheeks, his jumper sleeve was soaking, but still he wiped away his tears_

"_No one could be that clever" he said._

"_You could." John answered, with a sad smile._

"_Bye John." and Sherlock stepped off the roof._

That was always the point that John woke up at, but this time his dream went a little further.

_Just as Sherlock stepped off the building John felt a wave of new emotion sweep over him, he realised that he had fallen in love with Sherlock, and he had never told him how he felt._

John noted the new piece information dream had brought and thought more about it as he was making breakfast for him and Lestrade. He hoped it was only the dream because he would never be able to tell Sherlock how he felt, but he realised that he actually did love Sherlock.

The cemetery was as quiet as usual when John walked up the pathway towards Sherlock's head stone. There were a few elderly people who he assumed were tending to their spouses graves, but the man who looked scarily like Sherlock from afar was also there. The dark stranger - as John had decided to call him - was standing next to the headstone that belonged to the consulting detective. He lifted his head and looked directly at John, it was only for a second and he turned around and quickly walked off. The man's face was very pale as was Sherlock's, but the cheek bones were more prominent, even still thought John, that looks exactly like him. He stood and watched the man walk away noting _how_ he walked, again it was very like Sherlock. John walked towards Sherlock's grave and sat down next to it.

"I had that dream again," he said, "the one when I am telling you not to jump, but you jump anyway. Why did you jump Sherlock? Anyway, it was different this time," he knew there was no point in talking to a big lump of rock, but it did help him "well not different, but there was something new." he took a deep breath, "I think I love you Sherlock, not as a friend - though I do love you as a friend - but as more." John felt tears sting his eyes for the hundredth time that day. "And I feel terrible that I couldn't have told you before you jumped, it could have stopped you from jumping."

John broke down in to a terrible wave of emotion and he sat against the headstone crying for half an hour. He looked down at his watch and realised that he should be home by now, but he didn't want to leave what he had left of Sherlock. He slowly stood up and touched the cold smooth blackness of the headstone. He took a deep breath and walked away, not knowing that the dark stranger was standing behind a tree in hearing distance of him.


	6. Chapter 6

**As you may have noticed (if anyone actually reads this) I have not updated in a few weeks I think, well I am sorry for that. Hope you enjoy this chapter.**

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><p>Chapter 6<p>

It was the words "I think I love you Sherlock" that really got to him. Sherlock loved John as well and knowing that his love would have been returned made it even harder for him to stay away. It was four months since he 'died' and he was still far off catching any of Moriarty's henchmen. Sherlock still lived with Molly and regularly went out for coffee with John so as to update Sherlock on how he was doing. She went out most nights with her latest boyfriend, but had never taken him to the house, _she is probably scared I will do something to jeopardise this relationship_ he thought.

"Sherlock, I am going out tonight so can I trust you not to leave ears and toes lying about the place?"

"Of course." he answered "So when am I going to get to meet you latest man?" he asked.

"Well I need to tell him about you first."

"Why?" Sherlock asked.

"Well because it is Greg."

"Lestrade!" he said quickly.

"Yes. He is so nice, I think it's going really well, we've been going out for about three months now."

"I really don't need to know that. Why Greg Lestrade?"

"He knew I took it really badly when you 'died'." she emphasised the _died_ as she always did when it came up in conversation. "He asked me out for a drink one night and we realised that we both have a lot in common."

"Okay, so what are you going to tell him when it comes to me?"

"God Sherlock, I really don't know." Molly said.

"Maybe you should invite him up tonight."

"I don't know if that is a very good idea."

"Well he has to know sometime, and now is as good a time as any." he argued.

"Okay, I'll tell him to come up." she took her phone out and tapped on the keys. "He'll be here in a few hours, so tidy up your experiments."

As Sherlock was half heartedly tidying up, and putting test tubes and flasks in to the box he thought about John. _Why did I have to leave him?_ he thought. He knew there was no point dwelling over it, he had taken the last three months to come to terms with his feelings for John and it would take him longer to get over them.

John walked in to 221B Baker Street for what he hoped wasn't the last time. He had rejoined the army, and was required to stay at the barracks for training. Mycroft had collected most of Sherlock's small belongings, apart from the scarf which John had kept so that he would remember the year and a half that he knew Sherlock and had become very close to him.

"John I will miss you so much. Do visit and write won't you." Mrs Hudson was crying.

"I am only going to be away for a few months, three at the most. I will be back in England training up new doctors for Afghanistan before you know it." he laughed.

"I know, but please write anyway."

"I will, don't worry." he hugged Mrs Hudson and quickly drank the rest of his tea. He picked up the last of his boxes and packed them in to the army issued van. "Bye Mrs Hudson. I will miss you, don't worry, I will visit, write and if I can I will call you."

"Bye John!" she said, sobbing.

John drove the van down Baker Street to the cemetery. It was the last time he would be there in god knows how long. He got out of the van and walked towards Mycroft who was standing next to it.

"Hello John." said Mycroft. He was standing looking at Sherlock's grave swinging his umbrella.

"Hello Mycroft." he answered. "Did you say or do anything to the army that made them keep me here?"

"No why would you think that?"

"No reason." he said. "I miss him Mycroft."

"Your not the only one, I miss him too"

"Anyway, I was going to ask you to look after Mrs Hudson while I'm in Afghanistan?" asked John.

"Of course I will. Goodbye John, be safe." and he walked away swinging his umbrella.

John sat down next to Sherlock's grave stone and said "Well I am off to the barracks now, so I won't be here for a while. I miss you and I will never forget what a great friend to me you were, even though I woke up at one in the morning regularly, thinking we were being attacked by terrorists, well for the next month if that happens then I really am going to be attacked by terrorists." he laughed and a tear fell to his cheek. "Bye Sherlock."

He walked to the van and looked back, the dark haired stranger was there again.

"Sherlock, Greg will be here in a minute, so please be nice, he was really upset when you 'died'." it was there again, the emphasis on 'died', Sherlock hated it, Molly used it to make him guilty and to get him to do what she wanted him to, just as he had given her a nice smile or compliment so that he could use the lab after hours.

"Okay okay, but hurry up."

There was a knock on the door and a voice, "Molly what is this surprise you have for me?"

"There he is" Molly said.

"Hey Greg." she said "Okay, now please don't be annoyed when I show you, it really is a big surprise, but you do need to know."

The living room door opened, and Molly walked in holding Lestrade's hand, Sherlock stood up quickly. "Fucking hell!" Greg exclaimed.

"I can explain, if I didn't jump they would have killed Mrs Hudson, John and you. The only people I have considered friends, I didn't want to be the cause of your death." he knew it was a crap explanation, but the short explanation was better than the long one.

"Fucking hell!"

"Can you please say something else."

"Fuck, how did you survive, I saw the pictures and John he took-" he suddenly cut off "You bastard, how could you do this to him, you are his best friend and you have left him. You do know he is rejoining the army, because he can't stand being in that flat without you?"

"Greg. I know it must be really hard for-" he cut Sherlock off.

"You don't know what hard is Sherlock." he shouted. "I nearly lost my job because of you. I am losing a friend because he can't seem to be able to live in London without you. And Donovan and Anderson are not talking to me, they judge me, you know, because I trusted you." he was fuming. He sat down on the couch and sighed loudly.

"You need to know that it wasn't me."

"God Sherlock, don't you think I know that."

"Moriarty was a very clever person, and he planted that thought in the minds of everyone at Scotland Yard."

"Sherlock, I don't want to talk about Moriarty. How did you survive."

"Are you sure you want to know?" he asked warily.

"Yes." snapped Greg and Molly sat down beside him looking irritated.

"Okay, but it is really long." and he went in to the story of how he survived the jump.

* * *

><p><strong>I haven't written the dialogue for how he survived for obvious reasons, we just don't know! So just imagine it with your own theories. Thanks for reading and review if you think it need tweaking in any way, or if you have any ideas, I don't have any ideas for the next chapter yet.<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"And Greg, that is how I survived." it was half an hour later and Greg was still sitting next to Sherlock listening intently.

"Okay." he said sounding very confused, Sherlock laughed to himself, it really wasn't that confusing. "Anyway, Molly, are we still going to that restaurant?"

"Yeah, but we need to be quick, the reservation was for fifteen minutes ago."

Greg jumped up and said to Sherlock "You fucking bastard, I nearly lost my job, everyone is giving me a hard time, it's good to see you." he laughed and headed out the door.

"Sherlock, can you tidy up a bit please, do some hoovering or something. Bye." she gave him a kiss on the cheek and left.

Sherlock sighed, and went to find the hoover. He was thinking about John again _I need to stop doing this, I have only ever had one truly good friend and look what I am doing to him. Following him from a distance is not a good idea. _Molly had told Sherlock not to go to the cemetery, but he had convinced her that it was good for him, needless to say it actually made him feel worse, and earlier that day at the cemetery he wanted to run forward and reveal himself to John

John got out of the van and sighed, "It's good to be back."

"Hey you! Over there!" John looked up and saw his old friend.

"Seb! Hello, how have you been?" he called.

"John it's good to see you, I've been good." he said "How about you, what brings you back here?"

"I needed something familiar, I've had a pretty shit few months."

"Well you can tell me over a pizza and a pint." Seb suggested

"Sounds good."

After an hour of spilling everything about his life over the past eighteen months – from being kidnapped and taken to a swimming pool, to Sherlock killing himself - to Seb, John realised that he was incredibly drunk.

"So yeah Seb I've had a pretty * hic * shit time of it lately." John saw Seb sigh behind his drunken blurred vision.

"Well John, I am sorry for your loss, he seemed like a very nice man."

"Nice isn't really * hic * the word I would use to describe him, but he was * hic * a great man." he said. "I think I will need to go to bed now, I feel awful."

"Do you want me to help you back up to the barracks?"

"No, I can manage it myself."

As John was heading back he realised that Seb hadn't been that drunk and he was never one to turn down a free pint, or even one he had bought himself. But as he was drunk he pushed it aside, _Seb was probably only worried about me, _he thought. He walked in to a large building that was to be where he lived for the next year, maybe even longer. He walked up two flights of stairs and along a corridor looking for room twenty five. He pulled out his key and pushed it in to the lock of his new accommodation – he couldn't call this place his new home, there was no Mrs Hudson, Sherlock, or brass 221B on the door – he turned it and pushed. His bags were already there. The room was small with a desk in one corner, a chest of drawers in the other, a small wash basin and mirror and a bed along the far wall with a window above it. He sat on the bed and leaned down to get his tooth brush from his rucksack and as he pulled it out something caught on his hand, he pulled and out came a long blue scarf, he forgot that it was there and when he saw it all the memories of his time with Sherlock flashed through his mind. He groaned and curled up on the bed. He didn't know why Sherlock's death had affected him so much, he had lost a lot of friends over the years, but this one seemed more than just a loss of a friend.

Back in London, Sherlock walked around Molly's flat carrying a hoover. He looked down at the wooden floor, it was so shiny he could see his face in it. The silence was broken by a beeping noise that was coming from the kitchen, that beeping noise was accompanied by a foul smell.

"Crap." Sherlock said to himself, and he went to the kitchen. He opened the oven door and pulled out a tray. The tray had two pieces of chicken on it, but they were burnt, and hardly recognisable as pieces of chicken. He sighed and sunk down to the floor. He heard the door open.

"Sherlock, it's me." he heard Molly shout. "What have you been doing?"

"I tried to make some dinner for my self. It was not successful."

"I can see that." she laughed. "Go down to Tesco and get some chicken, I'll put some pasta on."

"Okay." and he quickly grabbed his coat and left. As he walked down the road his neck was really cold, _I need a new scarf,_ he thought. He walked in to Tesco quickly and avoided everyone. He grabbed a packet of chicken and went to the self service checkout, he picked up a bottle of whiskey as he passed. An attendant checked his ID – Martin Crieff, 31, Pilot, it's said, Mycroft had given him a fake one so no one would know his true identity.

As he walked back to the flat he took a detour, Molly lived twenty minutes away from 221B and he wanted to see it.

After a detour to 221B Sherlock realised that it wasn't necessarily the best idea he had ever had, so when he got back to the flat he felt incredibly guilty. He handed Molly the chicken.

"What took you so long?"

"I took a detour." he answered.

"I really don't like the sound of that." she said, "Where did you go?"

"221B." he mumbled.

"Sherlock, why did you do that?"

"I don't know, I felt the need to." he said.

Molly didn't answer. She put a plate down on the table and shoved a knife and fork at him. He had been eating less the past few weeks. "Eat."

"Okay. So how was your...date?" he asked.

"It was okay. Not as good as the previous ones, Greg was in so much shock."

"I hope you told him not to tell John."

"Nope I didn't, but I trust him not to."

"Well then, good night." and he walked out of the kitchen to his room.

* * *

><p><strong>I have sort of hit a brick wall with this and I can't think of where to go I am so sorry to anyone who has enjoyed this of alerted it etc.<strong>


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